


Spider gag

by copacetic



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gags, M/M, Minor Character Death, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-17
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copacetic/pseuds/copacetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt at ISS_Enterprise: when McCoy is especially mouthy, Kirk likes to strap a spider gag on him and let the crew do what they want with him for a while. Then he gives McCoy a chance to apologize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spider gag

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for minor character death.

McCoy finally pisses him off enough to do it again on Janus IV. He declares a little too loudly that he's not a bricklayer and Jim can piss the hell off before he wastes his time on nonhumans. That might not have been enough to do it, but he says this (too loudly) in front of too many miners to kill easily, on a day he knows Jim is running hot and frustrated under that cold face. Spock has been no help whatsoever with his tricorder and statistics, and Scotty just keeps laughing that manic laugh over the communicator and banging things with a wrench and babbling about nuclear power, and it's no wonder that Jim's had enough of his smartassed dirty mouth. His lips thin and in the dull moment right before he speaks all McCoy can think is that he'd really love to fuck that mouth again.

"Doctor." Kirk holds out his hand, the words clipped and precise. "The spider one, I think. If it's not in your bag your punishment for this disobedience will be worse."

McCoy flushes hotly and thinks about denying he has it in his medical bag. Even as he's thinking this he's reaching in, knowing if he doesn't Jim might think up something truly hellish. As the straps go around his head and the metal bites into the insides of his cheeks he can feel the angry flushing turn cold. Kirk pushes down on his shoulder and he kneels, looking up mutely, trying to think of what might be coming next.

"Gentlemen!" Kirk pivots on his heels and smiles like a snake at the miners. "Since my chief physician continues to stick his foot in his mouth, maybe you can show him what should be going in there." McCoy studies their faces, knows he makes a pretty sight kneeling and dominated with his mouth forced open. There's about a dozen miners there in the tunnels with them, all terrified equally of the unknown monster in the dark and the captain with the shiny shirt and the grin that shows too many teeth. A few shuffle their feet and look nervous. A few of the brighter ones stare at Kirk, trying to figure out the best way to get out alive.

And a few of the dumb ones smirk at each other and move forward. "Don't be shy!" Kirk says silkily. "We have some time before that monster returns. And when he does, I need my doctor to do what I tell him to." At this he looks down again at McCoy, who stares up angrily. "Hands behind your back, McCoy." McCoy moves his hands, hooking his fingers together, slowly enough to tell Kirk how far he can go to hell. He sees Spock lift an eyebrow in boredom and walk off down one of the tunnels behind Kirk before he looks away and at the miners.

The tallest and meanest looking of the miners sidles forward. Kirk looks back at him and gestures to come forward. At this, the man's grin widens and he strides forward, undoing his fly. McCoy swallows reflexively, without being able to close his mouth. He's suddenly acutely conscious of how he can feel the membranes of his mouth and tongue drying in the air as the miner's cock hangs in front of his face, already erect. The man still waits for Kirk's "Mmm, that's good, now fuck his face. Hard." for permission before reaching calloused fingers down to thread through his hair.

His cock smells like sweat and too-tight underwear, and McCoy could live the rest of his life without having to smell his underwear again. The cock isn't bad, though, smooth and firm. McCoy wends his tongue through the bars of the gag and is rewarded with a moan. The man moves his hips and the hand in McCoy's hair tentatively at first, then with more enthusiasm as he senses Kirk isn't going to suddenly punish him for taking what was offered. McCoy finds himself gagging a little bit, although when the miner hears this he backs off a little. McCoy tries to use his tongue as much as he can move it, make the man come and shorten this humiliation, but he's restricted with his hands behind his back and his cheeks spread open. He can't get a proper suction or help matters along with his fingers. He has to kneel on the ground, his knees starting to hurt, as this anonymous man fucks his face and grunts over him.

Soon enough the salty bitter taste bursts in the back of his throat. He makes an attempt to swallow and then gives up, lets it drip out of his open mouth. He knows some of it is getting on his uniform and tries not to care.

McCoy refuses to look over at Kirk as the first one nods thanks at him, and is replaced by a second. This one is a little cleaner, with blond hair instead of brown, but he fucks McCoy's throat without paying attention to his gagging and takes forever to come. It's after interminable minutes that McCoy can feel the semen sliding down his throat and mouth and lips and dripping down his neck, his nose still forced into the man's pubic hair. As the hand releases his hair and he sags back onto his now definitely hurting knees, he can hear Kirk inviting more dumb bricklayers to the party.

Some of them are still hanging back suspiciously. McCoy is not pleased to see that a rough line has formed, with much jostling and jabbing of ribs. As another man steps forward and slides in, this one tasting of salty sweat, he focuses on the grunts this one is making and the noises of the crowd. There's the low indistinct voice of someone obviously telling a dirty joke and the rumble of laughter at the punchline. Spock's damn tricorder is still whirring in the distance as he stalks through the tunnels looking for answers, bored by the dominance games being played out behind him.

Kirk makes no noise at all even though he has to be barely three feet away from him.

He's focusing so much on the murmur of the crowd forming that he had almost managed to ignore the burn at the back of his throat and the smell of old socks that permeates this one's clothing. The man's grip suddenly becomes punishing as he comes. Spurts of bitter semen mingle with the rest as he shudders and gasps over McCoy, who winces in irritation, wishing that he could bite. How long could this go for?

It's after the fifth time he gags and retches through another man's orgasm that he looks at Kirk. Although he tries to avoid it, he knows that some of his irritation and encroaching exhaustion must be showing in his eyes. The semen and saliva is starting to clump in the stubble on his chin and neck, he can feel his uniform is getting soaked, and his knees are starting to bleed with the stone catching and tearing at the skin through the fabric. He can't swallow properly with the damn gag in and he is ready to kill him in a painful way if Kirk doesn't let him off his knees.

Kirk meets his gaze evenly. Bastard isn't even hard, McCoy thinks resentfully. Kirk lets another miner step forward, unbuckling his pants. This one smells rank, fouler than anyone before, like urine and mildew and sweaty asshole. McCoy's eyes become disgusted, achingly resentful, and thinks that he is going to find a way to get Kirk back for this. He can pay off Scotty and and airlock Kirk during an engineering inspection. He could bribe an Orion to drug him into insensibility and cut off his cock. He can hypospray him one night, have him wake up restrained, spread open and lubricated in McCoy's quarters. McCoy lingers on this mental image and then tucks it away for the future.

McCoy continues to watch Kirk's face and eyes as the cock slides down his throat and in that moment his anger burns itself out. Now it's just another cock to get through, another orgasm to suffer. His eyes drop down, away from Kirk's face, and he sags almost imperceptibly on his knees.

The sound of a phaser, a choked off scream, and suddenly the stinking dark shape standing over him is gone. Huh, thinks McCoy. Guess there weren't too many to kill easily.

Kirk's phaser continues to fire methodically as he guns down every single man who was in the corridor. His security team briefly joins in from a nearby tunnel to make sure nobody survives, then backs off when they see the expression on his face. McCoy waits until Kirk nods at him before he unclasps his hands, stands unsteadily, and unstraps the gag. He works his mouth a few times and spits onto the ground. He can hardly pay attention as Spock stalks back to them, full of tricorder readings and how he met and killed the creature though a mind meld. "Those nodules were her eggs, Captain. She could hardly have been blamed for protecting what was hers."

"Understood, Mr. Spock." Kirk turns over the corpse of a miner with a boot. A look of distaste crosses his face. He looks up and notices the piece of machinery Spock had placed next to his feet. "Is that the circulating pump?"

Spock nods, hefts it easily. McCoy almost grins as Kirk gives the order to return it to Mr. Scott and then beam back up with the rest of the security team. Kirk looks pointedly at McCoy and says, "Myself and the Chief Physician will beam back aboard immediately."

It almost makes him not mind the sensation of being transported.

 

After the usual I'm-back-on-the-Enterprise-now-let's-see-who's-been-plotting-against-me-and-murder-them time, McCoy finds himself in his quarters finishing up paperwork. The door chimes and opens. McCoy looks up from his datapad to see Kirk lounging against a wall. "Yes, Captain?" he drawls. Kirk doesn't speak, just moves forward with a self-satisfied expression on his face. As he settles himself on McCoy's lap he takes the datapad and places it carefully on the desk.

"Did you want to take this time to make a formal apology for your behavior down on the planet?" Kirk's hot breath leaves moisture trails on his neck as he leans forward, his lips almost touching. "You already apologized informally, of course. But I really must insist." Kirk lifts his head up and licks the seam of McCoy's lips.

"If that was your idea of an informal, what did you have in mind for formal, Jim?" McCoy says coldly, appearing unmoved. Kirk moans shamelessly and licks at his neck, bites and mouths at the sensitive skin. McCoy's eyes flutter, but he doesn't shift position to make it more comfortable for Kirk either. Kirk lifts his head again and looks at McCoy, eyes bright like burning.

McCoy tries to remember this moment, where he tips Jim into doing exactly what he wants. What that is, he rarely knows before it's happening. He should be grateful for how he doesn't need to say it. Jim knows him, inside and out, knows when he wants to be dominated and when he wants to dominate.

After Kirk has ripped off most of their clothes (what he'll never understand is the man's mania for tearing clothes) and McCoy is groaning like a slut against his open mouth, Kirk grins like he's had the best idea ever and kneels in front of McCoy. He reaches behind his back and clasps his hands together, presenting his open mouth like a present. "Oh, Jim." Is all McCoy can say as he leans one hand on the desk, the other in Jim's hair, and thrusts into that willing mouth. "Jim, oh fuck, Jim." He moans helplessly, thrusting into that wet heat, wishing he had that gag with him right now. "I need that gag- oh fuck- I'd tie you down and gag you open, just like this. Oh Jim, oh fuck. Your dirty hot mouth- fuck, fuck-" he says hoarsely, hardly hearing himself over the roaring in his ears, looking at Jim's eyes as he stares back at him, lips stretched around his cock.

As he shudders and moans his orgasm down Jim's hot wet tight throat, he's not thinking of revenge, of how he'll knock him out and fuck him open.


End file.
